


Quitters Never Win

by thalialunacy



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur tries to quit smoking, Merlin decidedly doesn’t, and there’s a lot of sex. And nicotine patches, and hand-rolled cigarettes. And feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quitters Never Win

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tourdefierce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tourdefierce/gifts).



> **Disclaimer** : I don't own these characters; nobody does, but I did use the likeness as should be credited to other people. No profit made or insult intended.  
>  **Notes** : All credit for this fic should go to tourdefierce. I just wrote what she said. There are also little nods to Wonderfalls, Sports Night, and, you know, every rom-com ever written. And special thanks for gingifere for being my British eyes, and doing so with alacrity and enthusiasm.  
>  **omg ETA** : the delightful [bravenclawesome](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bravenclawesome/pseuds/bravenclawesome) has podfic'd this! listen [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2695298) and leave her some well-deserved love! :D:D:D

It was always the same with Morgana and Arthur. They’d sit there, arguing, waving around lit cigarettes and trying to talk each other into or out of something. It’d been this way since they were thirteen (which was rather disgusting on its own, Arthur was aware), and Arthur hated to change it. But he also hated the way his doctor gave him a death glare every checkup, the way his heart seemed to beat too fast sometimes, and the way he coughed up some truly disgusting shit every morning in the shower.

“You should quit, then,” Morgana said during one of the many times their arguing managed to turn into an actual prudent conversation. “If it’s that much of a problem.”

Arthur dismissed the idea. Which meant he was already planning to embrace it. “But I would miss our lovely talks.”

“I think we could make do with Christmas and Easter.”

“Sold.”

And Arthur tried, he really did. He bought patches and chewed gum and he developed nervous tics and perhaps gained five pounds. He put up with Morgana’s poking fun and poking at. And he cut down, he really did. His doctor’s death-glare even lessened ever so slightly.

He just… couldn’t manage to actually _quit_ the things. Not for the reasons Morgana figured, but her hounding was appropriate, all the same.

“It’s bad for you,” she started up again one day at the start of summer, flicking ash his direction.

“I don’t buy it,” Arthur said drolly, done with the conversation already.

“It makes you smell foul.”

“I smell only roses.”

“You must taste like an ashtray.”

And Arthur was distracted and tired, and rolling with the familiar rhythm of the relationship, so he just let it slip out: “Somehow I don’t think he’ll mind.”

Morgana immediately righted herself from where she’d been elegantly slouched in a lawn chair. “Oh, he wouldn’t, would he?”

But Arthur merely took another drag, exhaling into the muggy June air. Their little rooftop smoking “garden” (totally deserving of air quotes; it was basically three lawn chairs and a plucky cactus) was empty but for them, per usual. Uther’s employees liked his heirs just fine, but tended not to join them for smoke breaks. Arthur blamed Morgana’s ability to make them feel like frightened puppies.

She didn’t frighten Arthur (mostly), but she did have a tendency to interfere in his life, especially if it involved him being laughed at in some way, so he stayed silent. He had nicotine to enjoy, after all.

Morgana was not deterred, though, and continued to eye him. “That’s how it is, is it?”

“It’s none of your business, yeah.”

“Which means it’s someone here.”

“Oh do shut up.”

“Someone who smokes, someone here at Pendragon Industries, but someone who hasn’t fallen victim to your charms yet. Or clearly you’d be over them and I’d’ve heard every last detail.” She paused. “Someone you fancy so much that you’ve been smoking more than usual, despite your intentions of quitting.”

Arthur scowled and sucked on his cigarette again. “Fuck off, you meddling—“

Just then, the door opened. Arthur, having had diplomacy drummed into him from a very early age, did not finish his sentence, in case the new company was of a more delicate nature than Morgana and himself.

And when Arthur saw who it was, he very diplomatically refrained from choking on his own cigarette smoke.

Because there he was, the object of Arthur’s current affections. Rail thin, alarming ears, pale, and dressed in a ridiculous outfit that shouldn’t’ve been allowed even on casual Fridays (but against which Arthur just couldn’t bring himself to complain), this kid lit up the fucking room just by lighting a cigarette.

Erm, or Arthur might’ve been a little gone on the guy.

But, to be fair, the guy was presenting an unfair case – he always wore trousers that were just one step up from jeans and just one step down from painted on and which rode ridiculously low on his hips, and he paired them with thrift-store button-downs, over t-shirts when he could get away with it… At any rate, his clothes had a habit of misbehaving and exposing pale bony hips that Arthur could just _picture_ his hands—or thighs; he wasn’t picky—wrapped around. 

Today’s outfit was no exception, Arthur noted. He didn’t want to look too closely, because the shirt appeared to be _paisley_. And there was some kind of tiny scarf thing—with ludicrous amounts of fringe—draped haphazardly around his neck. 

Ridiculous.

Ridiculous Guy nodded at both of them politely while he settled into his cigarette. He didn’t take a chair, though, nor did he strike up any conversation; he just leant against the railing and smoked (although his body was purposefully perpendicular to them, so as to not be completely rude, so that was something). It made Arthur’s heart thud feebly – from both an inane fear that he’d fall, and the stupid strip of lower back that showed up when he leaned over. 

Arthur took another lungful of smoke. He tried to keep his eyes away—he knew Morgana was watching him, the wench—but he just _couldn’t_. The way the guy’s already sharp cheekbones stood out as he sucked on the fag (and wasn’t _that_ a fantastic sentiment), the moment of actual enjoyment as he held the smoke inside, then the lazy purse of his lips as he exhaled. And he was looking out across the city as if he had _thoughts_ about it all, thoughts Arthur found he actually wanted to hear.

It was all very disconcerting. At the very least, smokers usually talked to each other. This guy’d never said one word to him, not even ‘Hullo,’ or ‘Have you got a light?’

After an incredibly awkward and mostly silent five minutes, the guy flicked his cigarette out (a skill Arthur had never had; one more sign he shouldn’t be smoking, surely), nodded at them again, and went back inside. Arthur stared at the door until he heard Morgana’s slow clap.

“Well done, brother dear.”

He closed his eyes, trying to come up with a way to get back at her without exerting any extra energy or getting his suit soiled. “I suppose it won’t do any good to tell you to shut up?”

“He _is_ rather delicious. Like a baby lamb.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate the compliment.”

“I bet his name is something chavvy, like Erik with a K.”

Arthur ground out his fag. “His name is Merlin.”

Morgana’s head tipped back with her laughter, cigarette smoke curling around her dark hair, and she was such an effortlessly elegant picture, even amidst the drudgery of his life, that for a moment, he was thankful. Then she continued to speak, and he forgot all about that. “Please tell me you’re stalking him.”

He grunted and made to stand, and she put a hand on his arm. “Oh, Arthur, you know I’m only taking the piss. He’s really lovely, and I think you should talk to him. And I don’t mean that as code for fucking. What department’s he from, anyway?”

Arthur sat back, eyeing her cigarette packet. He really didn’t need another one, but… “R & D.”

One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “Oo, la, a smart one. You’ll have to step up your game, Arthur Pendragon.”

He sighed and stood up. “What game? There is no game. Did you not see how he was dressed? And R & D? We’d be horrible for each other in the long run.”

Morgana paused just long enough to make him want to squirm. Damn woman. “And the short run?”

Arthur was rather famous for the short run.

He shrugged. “A shag would just make me want to have a fag.” He grinned at his own word play. “Pardon the expression.”

Morgana rolled her eyes and tidily put out her own cigarette. “Bollocks. I give it two days.”

\---

Arthur didn’t even make it one.

But he didn’t plan it, so he should at least get partial credit. He managed, in fact, to avoid Merlin the whole morning and early afternoon. Not that he knew exactly which floor Merlin worked on (24) or when he took his breaks (smoke at 10, lunch at 1, smoke at 3:45), but Arthur had just had a lot of work that needed to be done in his own office (floor 17) is all. And the nicotine patches finally seemed to be doing their job, because he mostly didn’t want to kill anyone.

Until about 3:30.

At which point Arthur found himself standing at his desk, sweating into rolled up shirt-sleeves and practically roaring into the phone. “What do you _mean_ that permit didn’t get filed in time? We were _counting_ on--”

And he realized, abruptly, that he sounded just like his father. His mouth snapped shut, and he breathed in deeply through his nostrils before starting again.

“You know what? Forget about it. It’s Friday. It’s nearly end of day. Have fun on the weekend and we’ll deal with it Monday, alright? Alright. Bye.”

He very much did not slam the receiver down, but he did glare at it mutinously for a bit after the call. Then he let out a barking laugh, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. Cursing Morgana twice for good measure.

\---

Sure enough, Merlin was out there, smoking contentedly against the railing, sporting a t-shirt and jeans and Arthur had to squint because he could’ve sworn one (or both) had _sparkles_ on them.

“You’re a nutter, Merlin,” he said without thinking. He’d had a long hard day of thinking and had used it all up, okay. He hadn’t _meant_ to say Merlin’s name. Really.

Merlin paused, but mostly to exhale. He really didn’t seem all that surprised. “Explain your reasoning, _Arthur_.” Arthur wished for a moment that he wasn’t the boss’s son, that Merlin had had to work as hard to get Arthur’s name as Arthur had for his. (Which… wasn’t very hard, considering he _was_ the boss’s son, but never mind that.)

“Easily,” Arthur said as he leaned against the railing a few feet from Merlin and breathed in deeply. “You wear ridiculous clothing, you work in a lab, and you’re slowly killing yourself by voluntarily inhaling carcinogenic smoke.”

“Fair enough. Want one?” Merlin held up his packet. Arthur was not surprised at all to find they were a spectacular dodgy brand. He was also not surprised to find that he still wanted one.

“I quit.”

“Ah.”

“Which means yes of course I want one, but I’ve also had a bloody patch on all day, so if I had one—“

“You’d start shaking like a chihuahua, yes, I’ve seen it happen.” Merlin put the cigs back in his pocket. “Best not, then.”

Arthur tried not to whimper, but a noise came out anyway. Merlin grinned at him. “Want me to breathe it on you?”

“Oh dear God would you?”

“More than happy to.”

“Have a thing for torture, then?”

“A bit.”

“Good to know.” And he waggled his eyebrows. Merlin chuckled at the innuendo, and Arthur thought he saw a little bit of an embarrassed flush. How incredibly endearing. “In that case, maybe we should have a safe word.”

“A smoking safe word?”

“A smoking safe word. An ‘I’m about to have an overdose fit, or perhaps bite your head off if you keep breathing that in my face’ safe word.”

“All right. Any ideas?”

“Uncle?”

Merlin laughed outright, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Arthur’s stomach turned over. “A bit obvious, isn’t it?”

“Banana?”

“People eat out here. _I_ eat out here.”

“No foods, then.”

“No.”

“Onomatopoeia?”

“Too complicated.”

“You’re a hard man to please.”

Merlin’s eyes flashed mischievously. “Undoubtedly.”

Arthur felt him _self_ kind of flush at the innuendo, and wasn’t _that_ completely not endearing. “No, that wouldn’t make a very good safe word at all.”

Merlin shook his head, clearly amused by the whole thing. “No, no it wouldn’t.”

“I’m going to stick with ‘uncle,’ then.”

“Really?”

“Well, I don’t suppose you’ll be wrestling any talking alligators on the patio, do you?”

At that, Merlin laughed long and hard, his head thrown back and his Adam’s apple doing enticing things. Arthur felt the world tip a little bit. He shook himself.

“That’s what you come up with?” Merlin finally managed, the words punctuated with laughter. “Anthropomorphizing an animal that’s found exactly nowhere near here?”

Arthur grinned at him. “Yes?”

“Who’s the nutter now?” Merlin smiled slyly at him, lifting his cigarette to his mouth.

And Arthur, stupid, hopeful Arthur, his stomach full of drunk butterflies, just went for it. “Have dinner with me.”

Merlin’s inhale became a sudden exhale, and he turned to stare at Arthur with an eyebrow raised. “Beg pardon?”

Which was pretty much the most adorable thing ever. Not that Arthur cared about adorable. But still.

“Dinner. Or supper, if you like. A meal generally taken after a day of hard work, sometimes alone but preferably--”

“Yeah, right,” Merlin interrupted, “I get it. But I don’t--” He made a small noise and looked down at his cig. He was smiling, though, so Arthur was still hopeful, until—“No. I’m afraid I’ve got to say no.”

Arthur’s chin tipped up just a bit. “Ah, boyfriend, then.”

Merlin shook his head ruefully. “No.”

“No boyfriend,” Arthur repeated slowly.

And Merlin looked so uncomfortable Arthur almost felt bad for him, but he was too busy being terribly perplexed as to how he was getting turned down. He was attractive, Merlin was attractive—despite being unable to dress himself—and he knew Merlin was at least aesthetically interested. So what the hell?

He took a step closer, watching Merlin’s face carefully. “Scared of my father?”

“Hah!” The huff was so surprised that it had to have been genuine. “No. He’s got very little influence over my department, and I hear he’s been closing in on retirement anyway.” Merlin’s eyes flicked to Arthur’s, then, most incongruously, down to Arthur’s lips.

Arthur watched him swallow, trapped in the motion of his throat and the sound it made. He stepped closer, close enough he was caught in the smoke from Merlin’s cigarette. “I don’t understand,” he said into the inch of air between them. And he didn’t, and it frustrated him, and made him wonder how he’d gotten it all so wrong, all day, everything had been going wrong--

The defensiveness drained out of Merlin’s expression as he looked at Arthur. “You--” He made an exasperated noise and flicked his cigarette over into the tin without batting an eyelash. “You’re an idiot.”

Insult on top of-- “Oi, I know I’m not a lab rat such as yourself and your esteemed colleagues, but I like to think I’ve some amount of--”

Merlin’s mouth slanted over his, hard, and he shut up right quickly. He reflexively brought his hands up to Merlin’s face, fanning them over his jaw, grazing those ridiculous cheekbones, all hard lines and smooth skin, too surprised to do much else while Merlin began to kiss the life out of him.

Merlin kissed like he smoked: with intent and ease, his tongue searching for Arthur’s only when access was granted, and Arthur was struck with the sudden feeling that he was being _wooed_. Which was a bizarre turn around for him, but Merlin’s lips were so fantastic, the taste of ash and filter so _delicious_ , that Arthur didn’t care for very long.

He dropped one hand to Merlin’s hip and pulled him in, and smiled smugly into the kiss when Merlin made a surprised moan somewhere in his chest.

Merlin felt the smile, clearly, and pulled back long enough to say, “Prat,” and pinch him on the arse, and Arthur twitched and grunted, and it was Merlin’s turn to smile, before he dove in for more, licking into Arthur’s mouth with enthusiasm and not a small amount of finesse.

Arthur, it seemed, had met a worthy match.

The kiss ended eventually, as these things must do, but they stayed in shared space, breathing erratically. Arthur’s mind should’ve been scrambling, and it kind of was, but this somehow just made sense, this… this _Mer_ lin. Despite the facts.

“I should get back,” Merlin said, finally.

Arthur’s grip tightened. “It’s Friday afternoon.”

Merlin smiled. Arthur was really too close to see it, but he could feel it. “Yeah, well, some of us aren’t the boss’s son.”

Arthur groaned. “Lucky you.”

Merlin backed up, and the air suddenly seemed very cold. “Oh cry more, prince.”

“Only if the next word is ‘charming.’”

“You’re impossible,”

“Yet you won’t go out with me.”

“Imagine that.”

Arthur reached out and caught him round the elbow, hauling him back in. “I don’t want to.”

Merlin rolled his eyes for sure. “Oh, God, go away. I have lab rat things to do.”

But he had a smile on his face. And Arthur’s lips still felt smudgy from the kiss which, lest we forget, _Merlin_ had initiated. So he let him go. He even saluted as he watched Merlin walk away, which caused Merlin to laugh, just as he’d intended.

He’d win this. He would. He was Arthur, son of Uther, and he always got what he wanted.

\---

And it didn’t count as stalking if the other party had kissed first, right?

\---

Except that Merlin beat him to it, on Monday. He was already sat in one of the beaten lawn chairs when Arthur got onto the patio.

Arthur stopped short just outside, the door clomping gracelessly shut behind him. “Erm, hello.”

“Oh, hi,” Merlin said wryly. “Fancy meeting you here, as my mum would say.”

“Indeed. Strange coincidence.” Arthur watched as Merlin rolled his fag, his long fingers shaping it carefully then rolling it tightly. And Arthur knew what was coming next, but his brain still shorted out a bit as Merlin raised the cigarette and licked neatly across the seam before doing the final roll.

Arthur groaned. “Not fair.”

Merlin grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll share. Unless--”

Arthur shook his head quickly. “No patch today.” He actually didn’t remember whether he had one on or not, and he didn’t exactly put them in a place he could check in public, but at this point he didn’t give a fuck. He’d be okay with a seizure if it meant he got to put his lips around that beautiful cigarette.

Or perhaps…

He glanced at Merlin’s face, trying to gauge if he was planning on pretending like Friday’s tête-à-tête hadn’t happened, or if he’d be okay with Act II. Merlin’s answering smile, curious and open—well, was enough for Arthur.

He stood and meandered towards the door. “Oi,” Merlin protested, exhaling that first puff quickly. “I said I’d share.”

Arthur held a hand up, pretending to contemplate something as he hit the lock, his body blocking Merlin’s view. “So, accepting the principle that under no circumstances will you go out with me. Not to dinner, not to drinks, not to a B movie.”

A corner of Merlin’s mouth turned up. “I do not like them on a train, I do not like them in a plane.”

Arthur wanted to laugh, but would not be put off. “And accepting the principle that you do not seem averse the idea of getting off with me.”

“Well, you’re not hideous. And I’ve heard you’re not a bad kisser.”

“Thank you.” He unhurriedly took off his jacket. “And accepting the principle that smoking is bad for you… For me, in particular, is the principle we’re focusing on, here. Accepting that, let’s also accept that healthy substitutes should be sought and consumed.” He very deliberately laid his jacket down on the (filthy; thank God for excellent drycleaners) ground in front of Merlin’s chair.

“Accepted. Arthur, are you--“

Arthur dropped to his knees on the folded jacket. Merlin sucked in a breath. When he let it out again, it was shaky. “Well, this went from zero to porno in two minutes flat.”

“It’s for my health, Merlin.”

“Oh, well, in that case.” Merlin gestured at his nether-regions. “By all means. For your health.”

Arthur reached, but Merlin’s hand was there, blocking him from his goal, and Merlin was blushing like a schoolgirl. “Whoa, whoa, I was joking. The door is—“

“Locked,” Arthur said easily, sliding his hands up Merlin’s ridiculous-jean-clad thighs.

“How will we—“

“I have a master key.” He reached for the hand that had been protectively hovering over Merlin’s bits, and lifted it to his lips. The skin was cold, and tasted like cigarettes. He sucked on the tip of one finger a bit. “Now will you just shut up?”

Merlin swallowed, and regarded Arthur for a long moment with indecision in his eyes. Then one corner of his mouth lifted. “Yes, sire.”

Arthur smirked. “Good boy.”

“Oi, watch it. You’re the one on your knees. Now get on with it before I start to think you haven’t the balls.”

“Cheeky.” Then he shoved Merlin’s thighs apart and reached for the zipper. “I’ll take my sweet time if I want, thanks very much.” Merlin’s dick was warm under the fabric of his pants, warm and halfway hard, and Arthur wanted it in his mouth that very second. He reached with his free hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a shiny little square. “And you will not complain,” he said while he made quick work of the condom. “Now, come here.” He grabbed the underneath of Merlin’s thighs and pulled him down just enough—Ah, yes, that was the stuff. The condom tasted naff but the cock felt decidedly awesome on his tongue.

Merlin watched him, chuckling, breathing unsteadily. “You came prepared.”

Arthur slid off with a slick noise, his hand working those lovely balls. He smirked. “I’m always prepared. You’re the one that’s going to come.”

Merlin groaned and stuffed his cock back into Arthur’s mouth. “Oh, do shut up.”

Arthur hummed, whether in consent or protest he didn’t know or care. He was too busy sucking on this ridiculously gorgeous cock, and greedily drinking up all the soft sounds and twitchy motions Merlin couldn’t repress. 

It was better than a bloody cigarette, that was for sure. And when he coaxed a quiet but heartfelt orgasm out of Merlin, he congratulated himself. Damn fine job, Pendragon, he thought as he counted the contractions pulsing underneath the latex. Damn fine.

At the gentle push of Merlin’s fingers through his hair, he released Merlin’s cock, but he didn’t pull away. He leaned in, in fact, to-- well, to be honest, to smell at Merlin’s thighs, and nudge at his balls with his tongue. Not arousingly, just… curiously. Arthur might not have been a researcher, but he was a thorough sort of chap.

Merlin made a content noise in his throat, then tugged on Arthur’s hair a bit more until Arthur met his eyes. “Hmm?”

“Did you--” Merlin looked amazing, flushed and amused and bemused, as he cleared his throat and tried again. “Did you just logic your way into giving me a blowjob?”

Arthur shrugged. “Well, I figured since you’re the science-y type, you’d—“

“Arthur.” Merlin’s hand was on his jaw, and Arthur could feel his pulse tic in his neck.

“What?”

Merlin’s eyes positively twinkled. “’Please may I suck your cock’ would more than suffice.”

Arthur felt a grin spread across his face. Fuck it all, he _liked_ this bloke. He heaved up and landed a slightly sour kiss on Merlin’s lips, pleased when Merlin pulled a face but kissed him back. Then he leaned his forehead against Merlin’s cheek, unable to stop smiling.

“As if I’d say please.”

\---

“You _dog_.”

Morgana’s voice was full of glee. It was sort of disturbing.

But what was more disturbing was that she’d merely seen his face as he’d glanced around the smoking area, and had from that figured everything out. He hated her sometimes.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, no, believe me, it’s an honour to know you. An honour to be able to say that my brother took advantage of both our smoking area and another one of our employees--”

“I did not take advantage,” Arthur cut in, more savagely than intended. “And don’t speak of Merlin that way.”

Morgana’s gaze snapped to him, and she studied his face some more. “Oh, Arthur,” she finally said, full of smug. “Arthur. Arthur, Arthur, _Arthur_.”

“Shut _up_.”

“Cigarette?”

Arthur scowled at her. “No. I am not that hard up.”

She smirked. There may have been a ladylike snort involved (if such a thing were possible; and if it were, trust Morgana to be the one to pull it off). Then she just brought her cigarette to her mouth with a shrug.

“Yet.”

\---

The thing is, smoking is honestly hard habit to kick. And it’s not just the nicotine, or else patches and gum would be foolproof. But they’re not, because part of the joy in smoking, a huge part of the Experience, is the being outside, being with people, being able to sit and do nothing but breathe deeply for ten minutes in the middle of a busy day.

The nicotine is just a really excellent bonus.

\---

And the thing about addiction is: to conquer one, you usually have to replace it with another.

\---

“Enjoying the view?” Arthur’s voice was quiet on the rain-soaked patio.

Merlin didn’t turn from where he was leaning on the railing, but Arthur could see his smile. “Quite, thanks.”

“London can be sort of nice, I suppose.” He sauntered over to stand behind Merlin. Very close behind Merlin. “If one’s got nothing better to look at.”

Merlin clearly made to turn, but Arthur had sneaked an arm around his waist and held him firm. Merlin turned his head, his cheek close to Arthur’s, the space between them warm. “I can think of a couple things.”

“You flatter me.” Arthur’s other hand came round to start undoing Merlin’s trousers. “Maybe next time.”

Merlin swallowed; Arthur could feel it where his lips were very close to Merlin’s amazing neck. “You’re on a mission?”

“I’m on a mission,” Arthur confirmed, his hand finally finding warm skin under layers of clothing. “And I think you’ll find I’m very good at what I do.”

“No arguments here,” Merlin said, shifting his hips subtly into Arthur’s grip. “At least thusfar.”

Arthur smiled and bit at Merlin’s neck. “Cheeky bastard.” He soothed the skin with his tongue and lips, and was gratified to feel Merlin’s cock start to fill in his palm. “Brilliant, cheeky, sexy bastard.”

“Now you’re flattering me.”

“Perhaps.”

“And apparently are on a mission to get arrested, should anyone see us.”

Arthur harrumphed a little. “As if anyone can see us from down there. And as if anyone would care.”

“Well, but you’re ~Arthur ~Pendragon. They might do.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said warningly, starting to stroke in earnest Merlin’s now genuinely interested dick. “ _I_ don’t care.”

He paid more oral homage to Merlin’s neck, pleased by the non-verbal responses Merlin couldn’t suppress. Pleased by everything Merlin did, really. (Except for the clothes. But those weren’t at the top of his list of priorities at the moment.)

As Arthur showed no signs of slowing, Merlin gripped the railing in front of him more tightly. “But… It’ll be…” He clearly couldn’t quite get in enough breath. “…messy.”

“Nonsense. I’m very practical.”

Merlin huffed out a laugh that turned into a groan as Arthur stepped up his ministrations. “I believe that—ungh—easily enough.”

And it was true: When Merlin brought a hand back and clutched at Arthur’s neck to warn him, Arthur brought down his other hand and cupped it round the tip of Merlin’s cock, catching just about every bit of come Merlin expelled with a groan.

After a moment, Merlin’s head fell back and he laughed. “Well, now what are you going to do with it? Got an extra handerchief?”

“As it so happens, I do,” Arthur admitted. “And I’ll use it. This time. But know that I’d much rather be taking care of it myself.” He brought the soiled hand up to his mouth and breathed in the smell, his eyes falling shut. He really, _really_ wanted to just put out his tongue and-- “It’s killing me to not know how you taste.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, shakily, before finally turning round and kissing the hell out of Arthur. “Oh, you _are_ scandalous.”

\---

“So, what?” Morgana said, sounding almost bored with it. “You’re having lots of sex. Good on you. Nothing new, though.”

Arthur fidgeted. He honest to God fidgeted, which was something he never did. Morgana saw it, and he cursed.

She smirked. “You want more than just sex?”

Arthur exhaled into her face. She had the grace to wrinkle her nose. “He still refuses to go out with me, though. Even just to lunch. It’s ridiculous.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then bring lunch to him, you absolute knob.”

Arthur blinked. Then he thought about it, for about two point five seconds. Then he smiled. “You, sister dear, are an evil genius.”

“I know,” she said airily. “Now go on. Woo your lab rat.”

“Technician.”

“Yes, that. Woo that.” She exhaled a large grand plume of smoke. “Or at least try.”

\---

He would always insist, far into the future, that he was subtle about it. But he really, really wasn’t.

\---

“What’s all that?” Merlin asked, waving his cigarette towards the cooler at Arthur’s feet. “Got a human head in there?”

Arthur’s heart flopped over. He covered it with a laugh. “That’s where your mind went?” Merlin shrugged. His eyes were twinkling. “You’re foul. Perhaps I don’t want to share my lunch with you afterall.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “It’s three in the afternoon.”

“Three-sixteen, thanks, and I’m just getting to lunch, all right?” It was even the truth; Arthur’s day had been mad.

Merlin apparently could see it, because his expression softened. “Alright, what is it?”

Arthur suppressed a triumphant smile. “Nothing big, just some sarnies.”

Merlin smirked. “Sarnies? What are you, seventy?”

“Maybe.”

“What kind?”

“Ham and cheese,” Arthur said, reaching into the cooler and plucking out a couple. “Like I said, nothing fancy. You want one?”

“How can I turn down a handsome man holding a sarnie?”

“I hope you didn’t wander off a lot as a child.”

Merlin laughed. “Give me the bloody sandwich.”

“Aye aye.”

They munched contentedly for a couple minutes, Merlin taking drags of his smoke in between bites. “I’ll have you know,” he said after a while, “my mum makes a fantastic ham and cheese. I wouldn’t’ve needed to wander off, nor would I’ve been tempted by other sandwiches.”

And he looked at Arthur and grinned, and there was a bit of cheese stuck in his teeth, and his cigarette had sputtered out, and Arthur wanted to capture the moment, put it in a jar, and keep it in his pocket forever.

\---

Two weeks later, they’d had five more impromptu lunch dates, and approximately three more— well— 

They both often had ridiculous grins on their faces after smoke breaks, let’s just say that.

\---

Merlin huffed a laugh into Arthur’s neck as his hand dug under Arthur’s clothes in search of warm skin. “We can’t just continue locking the door to the smoking patio every time we want to get off.”

“Why not?” Arthur said absently, trying to ignore today’s hideous shirt and get to the good part.

Merlin kissed him, lightly, then met his eyes with a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

Arthur caught his face in his hands. “And yet you’re mysteriously drawn to me.”

“It’s not mysterious. You’re incredibly fit.”

“True. And I’m the son of Uther Pendragon.”

“Right, which as we know is a _huge_ draw for me. I’ve been meaning to ask for your autogr--”

Arthur put a hand over Merlin’s mouth. “Which means I have a lavatory right off my office. A rather spacious one.” He’d thought about it before, but he hadn’t wanted to be the one to bring it up. Merlin was so _contrary_.

But not on this, apparently. On this, he seemed rather intrigued, his chin tilting up and a pleased look in his eyes. “I see.”

Arthur continued, trying not to sound too gleeful. “And I have certain… items in there.”

Merlin swallowed. Hard. Then he licked his lips, and it was Arthur’s turn to swallow.

“Then what the hell are you waiting for, Pendragon?”

\---

It had actually been worth the wait, though, Arthur thought as he watched Merlin’s face reflected in the mirror after he’d gotten them free of trousers and pants and crowded him against the counter. Because now he knew that face a little, knew some of the personality behind it. Knew that the sound Merlin made as Arthur pushed two fingers inside him was a good one, knew that the way Merlin’s eyes slid shut then opened wide meant he’d found what he’d been looking for.

And he knew, after he rolled on a condom and slicked himself up, after he’d teased Merlin’s hole with his dick while nibbling on his neck and breathing in his scent, that he wanted to do this with no one else for a very long time. 

“Someday,” he said roughly into Merlin’s ear as he began a very slow push inside, “we’ll do this in a bed, yeah?” Merlin made a noise, an annoyed one, but Arthur kept talking, determined. “Properly, with dinner before and breakfast afterward.”

Merlin turned his head and bit at Arthur’s mouth. “You eat every ten minutes?”

“What have I told you about being cheeky?” Arthur gripped Merlin’s hips tighter.

“That it turns you on?”

“I said no such thing.”

“Well, to be fair, that’s been more illustrated than told.”

_“Cheeky.”_

“Circuitous, easily distractible _bastard_ who won’t shut up long enough to--” Arthur took that opportunity to sink into him fully, and he gasped. “Oh thank fuck.”

Arthur smiled wryly. “Yes, indeed.” Then he focused, because he wanted this to be Merlin’s Greatest Shag Ever, Full Stop. He wanted it to go in the Hall of Famous Shags. He wanted stories to be written about this shag, nay, EPIC POEMS composed and put to music for generations—

So he got to work. He got a hand on Merlin’s cock, his teeth in Merlin’s neck, and a rhythm thrusting into Merlin’s body like he belonged there, like he was staking a claim.

And was extremely gratified when Merlin lit up like a firecracker.

His hands clutched onto whatever they could reach, moving from counter to faucet to Arthur’s hair to Arthur’s hand where it clutched the front of his hip, his lips were bitten and his mouth slack, he pushed back against Arthur with deliciously desperate hunger, his eyes were wild as they danced with Arthur’s, and the keening cry he let out as he came rumbled through the whole room, and probably out into Arthur’s office and beyond, but Arthur didn’t give a fuck, clearly, because he yelled pretty loudly himself when he came a moment later, pulsing into the condom and feeling like he’d just won the fucking Olympics.

Pun intended.

They stayed together for a moment, catching their breaths. Merlin started to squirm first, but Arthur held onto him for a minute more. He kissed Merlin’s ear, then whispered, “Imagine how it’ll be when I can take my time… Spend an hour fucking you…”

Merlin groaned. “Jesus fuck, Arthur, you can’t just go around saying shit like that. It’s fucking distracting.”

“My, my, Merlin has a potty mouth when he’s all fucked out. Note to self.”

Merlin shoved him back, and they disconnected with a wet sound. “You are an idiot.” He turned, kissed Arthur once, before hiking up his trousers and grinning. “And since it’s your office, you get to clean up.”

And then he was gone.

\---

He stayed away for a while. Well, it was really only a couple of days, but it felt like forfucking _ever_. He was like a dealer; he’d given Arthur the first few for free, then left him alone and aching for more.

Seemed fitting, then, that the next time Arthur saw Merlin was in an alley.

\---

Arthur was on his way to the shops, but there was construction by his normal exit so he had gone a different route. He stopped cold when he saw who else was there.

Merlin, dear sweet damnable Merlin, was standing in the alley off the Pendragon building, one leg propped up behind him on the wall, smoking a cigarette and looking incredibly blissed out about it.

Arthur wanted to do a lot of things. Wanted to run up and kiss the shit out of him. Wanted to rail at him for being gone. Wanted to beg him to never leave again.

But he wasn’t a love-crazed adolescent, nor was he lacking in pride, so instead he approached casually. “Got another?”

Merlin started, hard, nearly dropping his fag. “Jesus, Arthur, you scared the hell out of me.”

Arthur just smirked. “So sorry.”

A corner of Merlin’s mouth turned up. “No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“And I thought you’d quit.”

“Hmm, so I have.” Mostly. The past couple days had been… difficult. He took a casual step closer. “There’s only one course of action here, then.”

Merlin smiled, but scoffed. “Oh come on, Arthur, you can’t possibly expect me to get my kit off in an alley.”

“No clothing removal,” Arthur repeated as he steadily and insistently invaded Merlin’s personal space. “Got it.”

“Arthur…”

“But I could maybe kiss you.” He brought his hands up to frame Merlin’s face. “I’ve heard I’m a good kisser.”

Merlin flicked his cigarette out and onto the ground across the alley. “I’ll believe it when I—mmf.”

Ah, Arthur’s favorite way of shutting him up.

They kissed for a long time, curiously enough. Arthur couldn’t get enough of the taste, the cigarette taste and the Merlin taste and the illicit taste of being in public. He was drawn into such a haze by the kissing that he only belatedly realized their hips were moving in small hitching circles, driven by their lazy but interested cocks.

He broke the kiss, chuckling, then made a path down Merlin’s jaw. “You know,” he said in between kisses, “I could probably come just from this, eventually.”

Merlin laughed, clutching at Arthur’s sides and thrusting a little more intently. “We’d be old and grey by then.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Arthur murmured, purposefully low, hoping that Merlin wouldn’t hear it, and also hoping he would.

He was a fool like that.

Eventually became about seventeen and a half minutes, despite Merlin’s dire predictions, and Arthur was left shaking with it, even more than he normally did with drawn-out orgasms. And he just _wanted_. He couldn’t help the next words out of his mouth.

“Who are you taking to Gwen’s wedding?”

Merlin pulled back and looked at him, startled. “How did you know I’d be at Gwen’s wedding?”

“Merlin,” Arthur said slowly, smirking a little. “Gwen’s in my department, and this company’s not _that_ large.”

Merlin exhaled. “Right.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Who are you taking?”

Merlin still blinked at him. “Erm, I don’t quite know how that’s--”

Arthur cut him off because he didn’t like where that was headed. “Come with me.”

Merlin laughed and shook his head. “Arthur, no.”

Arthur, his heart thudding in his chest, pulled out all the stops. He stepped back in close, slid his arms around Merlin, and pulled him in until his lips were right by one of Merlin’s ridiculous ears, until they were touching at all points possible. “Come with me to the wedding. You can show how you managed to tame the young Pendragon and then we can have glorious sex in a back room.” He kissed at the skin right under Merlin’s ear. “You’d look stunning in a mussed tuxedo.”

Merlin’s exhale was a bit wobbly. “So would you.”

Arthur pulled back, a huge smile on his face. “You’ll go with me, then?”

Merlin’s eyes were sad, Arthur was startled to see. “No. No, I won’t go with you.” He lessened the sting with a kiss, and his next words. “But if I happen to be there alone, and you happen to be there alone, well, then what’s to stop us sitting near each other?”

“And sneaking away?”

“Public decency is not high on my list of priorities, clearly.” And he smiled, but the sadness didn’t completely disappear.

“All right,” Arthur said, and kissed him slowly, gently, one last time. Until the next time, he amended.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

\---

“He refused to go to the wedding with me.” Arthur kicked at the potted cactus. It stayed frustratingly impartial.

“Oh you poor dear,” Morgana drawled after exhaling a drag from one of her long thin brown cigarettes. “How ever shall you manage?”

“Fuck you.”

Something about his tone, maybe, this time, caught Morgana’s attention, and she searched his face keenly. “Oh, _no_.” It was her Maternal voice, the one she used on puppies and… Arthur. He fucking hated it. “Oh, Arthur. No.”

“I said fuck you.”

She heeded his tone, at least partially, and sat back. “ _Finally_.”

Arthur exhaled. “Yes,” he admitted quietly. “Finally.” He cleared his throat. “So please do shut up this time.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “Cigarette?”

“Fuck yes.”

\--

Halfway through, though, she rallied. “You can’t let it be this way, Arthur.”

Arthur was so full of everything going on in his stupid life, not to mention overtired and on a nicotine rollercoaster, that he kind of snapped. “Oh, I can’t, can I? Tell me, then, sister dear, what the hell should I do? What grand romantic gesture should I use to capture his heart and ride off into the sunset?” He slumped back in his chair, lip curled in disgust. “Presuming there will be a visible sunset behind all this bloody rain.”

Morgana wasn’t even ruffled by his outburst. “Rain is romantic.”

Arthur tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “You are pedantic.”

“Nicely done.”

“Thank you.”

She flicked ash at him. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

He grunted, turning his head towards her but not opening his eyes. “I don’t care. You’re not right, either.”

Morgana just hummed, inhaled, and hummed some more.

\---

Arthur bought a packet of cigarettes on his way to the wedding.

\---

He didn’t want one until about twenty minutes into the reception, though.

The ceremony itself was lovely, lots of hats and pomp and Gwen and Lance looking adoringly into each others’ eyes, and he’d been excited about it all. Because he truly loved them both, and because Merlin had sat down next to him just before the bridal music started playing and given him a huge smile.

But straight afterward, he had bolted from Arthur’s side. Well, not literally; he hadn’t _run_ anywhere. But he’d certainly had to go speak to every single other person there.

Arthur frowned.

Then he realized it was his turn in the receiving line, and he didn’t want to go looking like a sourpuss, because he truly was happy for Gwen and Lance. So he unfrowned, and threw all his attention at the happy couple. And by the time he was done giving kisses and hugs and well-wishes, Merlin had disappeared completely.

Well, fuck that, Arthur thought. Two can play at that game, and he wanted a bloody cigarette.

He headed outside, somehow not surprised when he saw a familiar set of ears in the shadows. His hand drifted to his pocket, but he left the packet in there. “Merlin?”

Merlin didn’t move, beyond taking a drag. “Go back inside, Arthur.”

“No.”

“Go be with your friends.”

“Come with me. They’re your friends, too, yeah?”

Merlin snorted.

“Merlin.” It was Arthur’s Business Voice, the voice that got stockholders’ votes changed and puppies to pee in the right places.

Merlin just flinched. “What.”

And Arthur didn’t like that, not one bit, so he closed the distance between them and snugged an arm around Merlin from behind. Nuzzling into his neck, seeking warmth. Merlin was so tense beneath his lips, it twisted something in his chest. “Merlin,” he murmured softly. “What is it?”

Merlin was silent for a long, stretched moment, then when he did speak, it was so quiet that Arthur could barely hear him.

“Uncle.”

Arthur felt his brow wrinkle. “What?”

And suddenly Merlin pushed himself away and turned, his eyes flashing. “Uncle, okay? Fucking—” Then, just as quickly, the fight was gone out of him. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Arthur refused to play it easy, despite the cold knot forming in his stomach. “Do what?”

Merlin made a sound of disgust and a sharp gesture between them. “This. You.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m an idiot, all right?” Merlin looked so _pained_ , Arthur had to clutch his hands into fists not to reach out. “I’m an idiot who’s falling in love with the idiot he’s shagging.”

Arthur was intelligent, all right, but we’re all nincompoops when it comes to love, so-- “You’re shagging someone else? Because--”

“I meant _you_ , you _idiot_.”

“--I know we haven’t talked about it, but— Wait, really?”

Merlin threw his hands up in the air. “Yes! And I don’t even— It’s ridiculous! You basically stalked me, and are a notorious womanizer, or whatever the unrepentantly bisexual form of that is, and I’m not even sure if I _like_ you, but you’ve no idea how hard it is to turn you down when all I want to do is follow you back to your flat and have you annoy the piss out of me 24/7.”

Arthur, needless to say, was positively gobsmacked.

Merlin took his lack of response as the wrong kind of sign, of course, and flicked his fag out decisively. “Oh God and now you’re standing there thinking of how to let me down gently, but you needn’t bother. I’ll just be out of your hair in a tick.” And he strode towards the door back into the hall.

But Arthur caught him by the elbow before he reached it. “Merlin,” he said gently but firmly.

Merlin stopped, but didn’t turn. “What,” he answered sullenly.

“One moment, please.”

Merlin sighed. “Yes, your highness.”

And Arthur laughed, because it was all so fucking ridiculous. But then he sobered, because, wonder of wonders, it appeared Morgana had been right about the grand gesture. And an idea had somehow occurred to him just in the nick of time.

“You know,” he started, not letting go of Merlin’s arm, “princes sometimes had Consorts.”

Merlin actually looked at him, but his expression held disgust. “Is that another word for concubine?”

Arthur snorted. “No.”

“Oh.” Then he just looked confused.

“It’s another word for ‘bloke they happened to be in love with.’”

“With whom they happened to be in--” Merlin started automatically. “Wait. Really?”

He turned to Arthur, _finally_ , and his face was full of so much conflicting emotion that Arthur had to stop himself from just wrapping bodily around him. He knew things had to be said first. So he took a deep breath, and dove in.

“Accepting the fact that I have been fascinated with you since the first moment I saw you.”

Merlin started to shake his head. “Arthur…”

But Arthur gripped him harder. “Accept that.”

Merlin’s lips tightened, but he relented. “Fine, accepted.”

“And accepting the fact that every conversation we’ve had since then has only heightened that fascination, not diminished it.”

Merlin looked sceptical, but shrugged. “Accepted.”

“Also accepting the fact that sex with you is better than it’s ever been with anyone else, which is rather an extensive pool.”

“Oh for fuc--”

“Merlin!”

“Accepted! You arsehole!”

“I just complimented you!”

“All right! Then why are we yelling!”

“Because I’m a snobby prick and you’re a pretentious douche and we’re guaranteed to fight for the rest of our blessed lives?”

Merlin threw his head back and laughed. It was the most joyous, perfect sound Arthur had ever heard, and he couldn’t help but join in.

As the laughter faded, Arthur said his last bit, hoping it wasn’t all about to blow up in his face. “The last thing you need to accept is that, despite that--or perhaps because of it, who knows--I would like nothing more than for you to follow me home and let me annoy you 24/7.”

Merlin’s cheeks flushed just the littlest bit. Arthur’s heart jumped with hope. “That’s awfully quick. We’ve only known each other a few weeks.”

Arthur was quite sure Merlin was the most ridiculous and adorable person he’d ever met. “And that’s very pragmatic and science-y of you to question, but you already let the cat out of the bag that you feel the same.”

Merlin flushed even more. “Well, I never specifically said—“

Arthur just raised an eyebrow. Merlin deflated. “All right, all right.”

“So let’s conclude: Even princes need somebody. This one happens to need you.”

Merlin regarded him for a really, really long moment. When he finally spoke, it was with affection, but not the words Arthur was hoping to hear. “You’re… secretly a history nerd.”

Arthur let out a huff. “Well… yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Please tell me that’s not a deal breaker. Because I’m really fond of you and I’m _exceedingly_ fond of having sex with you, and I would like to be with you for the foreseeable future.”

Merlin tried to fight the smile, but in the end lost, and stepped close enough to slide his arms round Arthur’s waist. “Nah, I guess I’ll stick around despite your secret nerdery. I’ve been waiting to see where you get this reputation as a sex god from, anyways.”

Arthur finally grabbed him with both hands, pulling him in and landing a kiss on his mouth. “Fucking.” Kiss. “Cheeky.” Kiss. “Bastard.”

\---

_Some weeks later…_

Arthur felt Merlin’s weight settle on the bed near his knees, and looked up from his book. One glance at Merlin’s face had him putting the book on the bedside table and reaching for the light.

Merlin stopped him, his hands warm on Arthur’s stomach. “Leave it on.”

Arthur’s blood rushed decidedly south. Which was alright, because Merlin’s hands were headed there, too, but slowly, pushing the blankets off carefully. “Where is it today?” Merlin asked, his voice low and dirty and God, Arthur loved the bastard. “No, wait, don’t tell me. I want to find it.”

In a flash, he had Arthur’s boxers around his ankles and off, and the blankets shoved, forgotten, onto the floor. He smoothed his hands up the sides of Arthur’s thighs while peppering kisses on his stomach, making it convulse lightly.

One hand reached under, to cup a—very firm, thanks much—arse cheek, and Arthur bit his lip. “Here? Hmm, no…” It moved to the other one. “Not here, either.”

And Arthur tried to keep still, he really tried, but Merlin’s mouth was so hot on his skin and he wanted it on his cock so very, very badly… His thighs fell open of their own accord, revealing a tiny square of skin-coloured plasticky fabric on the very inside of the right one.

Merlin sighed, a pleased sigh. “Good, that’s where I was headed anyway.”

Arthur groaned a little. “Oh thank fuck.” Then he started as Merlin very calmly ripped off the patch and threw it aside. “Oi! That’s—that’s—a medical necessity, you tosser!”

Merlin, settled right between his legs by then, hands poised to assist with possibly the greatest blowjob in human history, grinned up at him.

“I believe I’m providing a sound replacement.”

“Well, alright, but—“

Merlin _bit_ his thigh, his eyes twinkling with mischief, and Arthur shuddered as pleasure rippled through him. “Your highness, I will only say this once.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut it.”

“…yeah.”

And Arthur truly was more than happy to comply.

For his health, of course.

**_FIN_ **


End file.
